Dark Horizon
by Demod20
Summary: The sequel to Dark Prophecies, this story is about the mobilization of Soul Society and the Soul Hunters for an all-out war against the forces of Hell. But beyond servants of evil, a dormant ancient threat begins to emerge, one whom may hold the answer to the prophetic nightmares haunting the Substitute Soul Reaper. What lies beyond the Dark Horizon? (Ichigo/Senna Pairing)


Last Time on Dark Prophecies:

 **Ichigo and his friends have repelled a smally army of Hanta -punished souls of Soul Reapers and Hollows sentenced to Hell after slain by Reapers of Soul Society- with the strongest one, Malice, being defeated by Karakura's resident Substitute Soul Reaper. Due to the battle raising the attention of the Seireitei's higher ups, the Head Captain sent Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenants Renji, Rangiku and Rukia to investigate along with retrieve Ichigo for protective custody. Despite refusing, he agreed so long as Senna -his long since believed deceased love- and his friends that helped defend Karakura Town could join him on the trip back.**

 **Reluctantly, Toshiro allows this and Ichigo with company embark on a new chapter; into the Dark Horizon.**

* * *

 **Darkness**.

It filled the recesses of his vision, almost a pitch black as far as the eye could see. The only thing that lit the way was a distant luminous body that one could compare to a star in the horizon. However, while it indeed lit up the relatively dim surroundings, the rest of the environment was enveloped by a convulsing wave of absorbing element; the _Wresting Flow_ -the dark purple substance- and the _Wresting Current_ -the bullet train of death- being made of the element known as _Reason_.

Thankfully, the trip wasn't treacherous thanks to the presence of Hell Butterflies circling around the legally traveling Soul Reapers that accompanied Ichigo and his friends that journeyed to Soul Society. While he was not pleased by taking a calmer pace -memories brought back from running for his life still present in his mind- Senna's presence to his immediate right kept that off track. The only thing that kept him from enjoying her proximity was the chilling stare he kept receiving from a certain petite Soul Reaper lieutenant of the 13th Division.

"She's still not said a word since I stepped foot in here," Ichigo mentally noted, his face drawn into a pensive look of solemn pondering. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Rukia's face scrunch up into an angered frown and her lower lip twitching. Twitching his own right eye, he pouted his lips and turned back to look ahead with a grunt. "What's her attitude? I don't think we said anything bad last time I checked-"

"Ichigo," Senna finally spoke, breaking the tense silence that had been made between them. Eager to listen to something other than the gurgling of the threatening walls around him in the precipice world, he turned to see Senna look ahead stoically and her eyes carrying a stony glint to them. "You should know, that the Soul Hunters and Soul Reapers don't see eye to eye. There's a reason why I tried to keep in contact with you without tipping _them_ off, right?"

"What, are you guys enemies?" Ichigo asked bluntly.

"No, but-"

"Then there isn't a problem," He snorted with a deadpan stare at her.

"B-But there certainly is a problem!" Senna blurted out, earning the unsavory rise of Rukia's brows while the other Soul Reapers shared their own mix of expressions; leaving Ichigo's friends just more confused in the process. "Some of the Soul Hunters are...well...deserters of the Thirteen Divisions. And others are, well, less than favored in the eyes of Soul Society's laws."

"Screw their laws," Ichigo unceremoniously shrugged. "I know I did."

" _Don't remind me_ ," Toshiro thought with a distant, icy glare aimed at him from behind the Substitute.

Before Senna could protest further, Ichigo reached over and placed a hand on her head, rubbing much to her embarrassment. But hearing his words, made her pause, "As long as I'm near you, nothing will happen. I won't let anybody take you away from me; ever."

The words softened her being because of how confident he said them. Even as they walked, she couldn't help the tears filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks. Sniffing, she smiled weakly as she rubbed her face with her sleeves. As his hand left her head, she reached out to hold it with one hand and keep periphery eye contact with him as they walked to the nearing gate of light.

"You promise?" She asked quietly.

"On my life," The Substitute Soul Reaper replied with a confident smile and wink.

Crossing through the Senkaimon, Ichigo and Senna were greeted by the warm wave of Soul Society's sunny atmosphere. Still mirroring the Summer environment of the Material World, it was refreshing nothing much about the feudal governed place had changed. But passing by the handful of Kido Corps maintaining the gate he'd be greeted by an assembly of the most noteworthy officers and Captains of the 13 Division Imperial Guards.

Most importantly, was the one-armed oldest of them all, Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto was blocking the path further into the Seireitei. While his eyes usually seemed narrow and calm, they now were open, giving a thin stare from the distance. Rapping his cane on the earth with a loud clack, those who entered from behind were suddenly stopped and the Senkaimon sealed behind them. Ichigo's eyes widened and his arm swiftly grabbed the sheathe of his Zanpakuto, seeing all of the Captains surround their flanks and the myriad of troops flood the streets behind the Head Captain.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," The old Soul Reaper grated out in an even, threatening tone, his Reiatsu slowly rising up like a gradually fueled furnace. With his Haori fluttering around him, his cane dissolved from its false appearance to its sheathed bladed appearance. Not drawing it, he rested his palm over the tsuba and glared at Senna, whose face paled and sweat, her whole body shaking from feeling the immense weight of a whole world of blood and ash upon her very being. If not for Ichigo's hand gripping her, she'd have fallen over; or passed out without his Reiatsu funneling around her in an act of instinctive protection. "I'm forever in your debt for what you've done for the Material World and for Soul Society. However, my kindness is only extended to the point of madness. You have three chances to stay my hand, and explain why you brought traitors and menaces to our doorstep. Tread carefully, Substitute Soul Reaper, or I'll rend you to ashes without hesitation."

"... _well, shit_ ," Ichigo thought with a nervous smile. " _I guess things never change, do they?_ "

* * *

 _ **C**_

 _ **H**_

 _ **A**_

 _ **P**_

 _ **T**_

 _ **E**_

 _ **R**_

 _ **1**_

 **Return of the Hero**

* * *

Ichigo couldn't believe the situation could've been anymore slanted. From the way Rukia, Renji, Rangiku and Toshiro acted by physically forming a line behind them ensured that they weren't there to support them. Between himself, Senna, and her cloaked companion -was his name Ryu?- they were all severely outclassed and outnumbered. Even without that being taken into account, the Head Captain of the 13 Division Imperial Guards was standing in their only path out; with a legion of Shinigami behind just waiting for them to try and rush past.

"Looks like bringing Senna and Ryo along wasn't the best idea" The Substitute sighed. "Bummer."

"And you wonder why I urged you not to bring them along!" Rukia hissed quietly, her violet eyes looking at them with anger. The look of frustration was exchanged with immediate worry when she saw Ichigo's sword unwind the chains holding the blade on his cloaked back. The black mantle Substitute also, in turn, stabbed his cleaver into the earth before him with his own hand resting on the top of the hilt. Her eyes steeled, realizing Ichigo's resolve had remained intact despite the suffocating Reiatsu aimed towards him and he aimed to respond back with sheer defiance. "I guess there was no stopping you, no matter what I said or did. You haven't changed a bit, Ichigo."

"Yo, Old Man!" Ichigo greeted raucously, causing some of those in his presence to fluster and others grimace at his lack of respect. But given the subtle smirk raising the bearded visage of the elder, the younger Soul Reaper smiled back regardless of the tense situation. "I see you haven't gotten any less scary, since I last saw you. Guess losing an arm didn't soften you up at all. You really are tough bastard."

"Hmph," Yamamoto huffed, his smile diminishing and his stoic countenance returning. "Your clumsy social etiquette is only thanks to your upbringing's lack of discipline. Knowing your father, I'm sure he didn't teach you right, so I'll let your lack of courtesy to your betters slide-"

"Why the show of force, Old Man?" Ichigo interrupted, his eyes steeled and his smile hardened to a toothy grin. "Surely you're not scared of a little girl and one creepy guy in a patchwork robe. Is this all for me, because I didn't ask your permission to be a Soul Reaper again?"

The Head Captain fell silent. Everyone present stood on edge, wondering just how this conflict was going to end. On the one hand, Ichigo was practically -if not in actuality- a war hero who both saved the Material World but also helped fight alongside the Soul Reapers in the war against Aizen. Had he not participated, their enemy would've breached the highest of heavens and probably done major harm to the Soul King and undo the Balance of the Five Realms.

On the other, the apparent hostility between the mysterious Soul Hunters and Soul Society is thick enough that you'd need Zangetsu to cut through it. The little Ichigo knew, they operated under the law of the Seireitei and did things their own way. Much in the same vein of the Visoreds and Kisuke Urahara, in his head, but there seemed a great gap of tolerance between them and Senna's organization.

"That was your first chance, whelp," Yamamoto gruffly intoned, his eyes looking back unabated at Ichigo. "You have two more to keep this from ending in bloodshed."

"You need to start answering my questions if I'm going to be following your orders, Old Man," Ichigo growled out, his hand tightening on the top of his Shikai's handle. "Why are Demons sending their goons after me and my friends? How long have you known about these guys? What's the connection between the Soul Hunters and these Hanta?"

"You really are a child, Ryoka boy," The Head Captain sighed haggardly, his eyes closing briefly before opening them once more. " _Demons_ are fanciful terms we call incarnations of evil. They've existed prior since the creation of Soul Society, before the Thirteen Division Imperial Guards, and during an era when Hollows roamed the Material World as freely as beasts in fields.

"I slaughtered billions during my younger days. Humans. Hollows. And those in between. But a Demon is simply not what you'd consider to be an ordinary creature. They are the byproducts of creation's purity needing balance; they exist to feed on a soul's essence, rather than the substance, as Hollows do. It is a cruel, eternal torture and they thrive on using their own identity's unique personality to drawl out a terrifying death that has no end in sight to a mortal's perspective. Eventually, what is left of them is corrupted and becomes a husk, unlike what they once were and become unwitting servants to masters that had drove them to the dredges of madness and despair."

The memory of Malice came to Ichigo's mind. He was far different than the other Hanta he had fought or sensed. Unlike the memorable Reiatsu that was similar to a Hollow's or Soul Reaper's it seemed to have been bathed in pure malevolence and anguish. His final form was far more disgusting and deranged than any Arrancar he had seen; less like an animal-human hybrid and more of an abomination of nature.

"The Demons I and the founders of the Thirteen Divisions fought forced them out of all realms they could feed on, into a place they couldn't escape nor wish to," The Head Captain continued, finishing with a baring of his teeth. "Hell. A place we have no jurisdiction or wish to interfere. The only ones who have free rein to enter without consequence are members of the Zero Division, having the power and experience to deal with any matter within at their own discretion."

Ichigo reeled at this information. The only encounter Ichigo had with the forces of Hell prior to the rest of his career as a Soul Reaper was when he dealt the finishing blow to Shrieker, a Hollow who was formed out of the Plus of a serial killer. Due to his crimes in life, his Zanpakuto had sent him to Hell rather than enter the cycle of reincarnation and he was pierced by a tattooed giant arm holding a spike that dragged his shattering body through the gate that appeared from whence it came. Chad and Rukia were also there to see that, something the two both visibly recoiled at remembering with the story the Head Captain told.

"And you all look so shocked," Ryo finally spoke, surprising everyone, including Senna. The scarred man covered in a tattered cloak took heavy steps forward, flipping the pole of his scythe around to rest on the front of his right shoulder. Casting a glance to the more senior Captains, he could tell by their expressions they either didn't care or were surprised. "Oh I'm sorry, it's just the ones wet behind the ears who are purposefully left in the dark. My mistake."

"Ryo-"

"All due respect," He dismissed Senna, despite her rattled countenance, paying her respect with a half bow. "But I must speak," He turned, fully facing the Head Captain. "I'm pretty sure you're going to go into detail exactly what measures the Thirteen Divisions take when dealing with forces from Hell. Wait, I forgot. This is the ferrymen crew, not the exterminators of threats to the well being of mankind."

"It is not our place to pass judgement on those already sentenced, Soul Hunter," The Head Captain replied with a huff, rapping the sheathed blade's end on the ground. "Your vigilante actions and reckless quest to destroy any threat your kind perceives makes you just as dangerous, if not more so, than the Quincies of old. Every action has consequence, no matter the station or origin."

"I know," Ryo growled, swinging his scythe to impale the ground in front of him. While the Soul Reapers around him reflexively gestured for weapons, or at the least, looked guarded they'd see he made no move for attack. Instead, he grabbed the hem of his hood and pulled off the top of his marred cloak and revealed a horrific sight; from the top of his head to what was exposed of his waist was charcoal skin, charred and cracked in burned scars as if he bathed in the hottest of magma. His yellow eyes stared at Yamamoto while his arms swung back out to either side in proclamation to the rest of the Soul Reapers. "Take a good look. This is the price I paid, fighting the forces of evil! In order to shield innocents, I put my body between a covetous Demon and humans it attempted to capture for its own sick enjoyment; as a result, he attacked me and my skin became trapped in a furnace of heat unlike any other. But the outcome, was that I have saved those who were openly targeted by the creature and my colleagues dispatched the beast. And do you know what? I'd do it again, a thousand times knowing what would happen to my body if I could save ten thousand more!"

"Such talk," Yamamoto replied, his hand gripping the handle of his sword, clicking it out of its sheathe and slowly bringing it out of the scabbard in an inverted grip. "Is the reason why I loathe you self righteous martyrs. Do you think Demons would stop their actions if they murdered a legion of you? Ten legions? Such tripe! That kind of ignorance would lead to the world's destruction faster than any army of Quincies could!"

"Hey, Old Man-!" Ichigo tried to intervene, but immediately saw the serious look about the leader of the Thirteen Divisions. He knew he couldn't verbally persuade him, not this time.

"You've just lost any hope of this ending peacefully, Ryoka," The embittered Head Captain stated in a serious, level voice as his eyes glared hard at Ryo, who didn't move an inch. "Pick up your Zanpakuto, deserter."

"I didn't come here to quarrel, or to pick a fight with you, Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto," Ryo responded, lowering his arms and staring back unafraid. "I came here to protect my Seer, Senna. That is all. We wish to make talks about coordinating a strategy in beating this Alpha Demon who yearns for Ichigo's soul; the fabric of his being interests him and we want to know why."

"And what makes you think that I'd ally myself with criminals who left their posts to fight a war that is far more destructive in fruit than the labor is worth?" He harshly asked, pointing the blade towards him threateningly. "Give me a reason why I should trust either of you!"

"Don't. I never asked for trust. I asked for cooperation. Do it, not for me," He turned to look at Ichigo, the Substitute Soul Reaper blinking owlishly at the exchange. "But for his sake. For the Hero of the Five Realms, Ichigo Kurosaki, the one whom your Soul Society owes their very lives to. Unless, of course, you don't believe in honoring your debts?"

If looks could kill, the glare Yamamoto bore forth would've erased the Soul Hunter from everybody's midst. Ichigo could feel that in how the Reiatsu spiked, losing the temperament and control it had for a brief moment. But just as quickly as a thunderclap, the godly spiritual pressure lessened until it returned to dormancy. With a steeled stare thrown Ichigo's way, he flipped his sword back to sheathe into the ground planted scabbard and lifted the blade to push back into the confines of his obi.

"I'll work with them, Ryoka, but know should any treachery come of our dealings with these criminals I'll personally see to it that you are punished severely. By my own hands. Do I make myself clear?" The Head Captain queried with a guttural bellow.

"Don't get me wrong, Old Man," Ichigo's face hardened, showing a stoic resolve despite the lethal circumstances of the tension just barely leaving them. "I'm only on their side because Senna vouches for them, and that she -along with Ryo- put their lives on the line to protect my friends. If they put them in jeopardy, it won't just be Hell that pays for messing with those I care about."

Senna let out a sigh of relief. Once the Head Captain acknowledged the answer as satisfactory, the Captains and Officers present released hold of their weapons. While a great many of the unseated members were sent back to their barracks to await deployment orders or other jobs needing to be done, the officers were personally commanded to set up checkpoints and patrols across the Seireitei in case unwanted visitors could crop up. Once that was taken care of, a handful Lieutenants and the Captains escorted Ichigo with his friends and the Soul Hunters to the Captains' meeting hall.

During the trek down highways of Soul Society's upper class, Senna looked to Ryo with awe and an inward amount of trepidation. The man had rarely spoke unless it was mission related. She hadn't asked how he got those scars and had never pried much about his appearance always being covered. But then he showed his body's marred skin, without shame and passionately declared his purpose of joining the organization in direct defiance to the Thirteen Division Imperial Guards' leader. It amazed her, but also scared her how close a real fight had broke out, regardless of Ichigo's presence.

And what he said about guaranteed retaliation to the Soul Hunters if they put his loved ones' in danger or directly hurt them, also gave her a bit of pause. Could she promise that something like that wouldn't happen? This was a war that went outside the boundaries of rules of engagement and code of ethics. Even the fight with Aizen, from she had studied, had some semblance of order and nobility in how battle was handled. She knew their enemies wouldn't be so kind, and they in turn had abandoned compassion for the sake of destroying them.

Ryo's case of being a martyr wasn't uncommon, but it was just as common for a Soul Hunter to use collateral as a means of destroying his enemy.

" _I have to protect Ichigo. That's my mission, after all_ ," Senna determined inwardly. She resolved herself to the task at hand as her leather-coat, high-heel boot frame strode hand-in-hand with the one she loved above all others into the First Division's Barracks. " _I just hope my superiors don't retract that priority; at least, not anytime soon_."

* * *

 **Elsewhere...**

Malice couldn't fathom how he could have failed. He had never lost a battle before, not once. He may have been repelled, perhaps even had a stand-off and lost his quarry, but never defeated since incarnated as a being of pure spite. To be utterly destroyed and lose his host body to his target was nothing short of humiliation. He'd shake the foundations of his prison, had he the ability to move.

At the moment he was nothing but muscles, tendon and bones sinewed together by barbed chains. The agony of this was only made even worse as he was suspended over a burning pit of magma that continuously boiled his body. When he had the strength to shriek in agony, he'd lose his breath due to aphyxiation and rasp for air before the cycle began anew. You'd think after what felt like eons of this kind of torture that one could eventually, in reason, deal with this pain.

There was no dealing with this level of torment.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Malice?" A shrill voice cackled above the pit Malice continued to burn over. His bleeding orifices turned and red vein laced eyes looked at the silhouette responsible. It was tall and gangly, easily ten feet tall and hints of clawed shape blades escaping the confines of its billowing cloak's sleeves. Wearing a white mask with red angular eye slits and a jester's painted smile, he knew exactly who this was.

"What's the matter? Tongue boiled over-?"

A bellowing shriek later, and Malice sent the unwanted visitor flying across the Hellscape, rocking its foundations and cracking the immediate flooring surrounding the pit. Gasping for air, some molten rock lapped onto his dangling legs and forced him to groan with subdued misery. Just as quickly as he had sent the unwanted visitor flying, it returned and crouched above his place of agony with a chuckle echoing from its throat.

"Now, is that any way to treat a old friend, Malice?" It chided.

"There are no friends in Hell," Malice croaked, his teeth gnashing together -all four sets, from his blood spewing hands to the abdominal set of bone- the inhuman looking sinner sneered at his colleague with the utmost contempt. "Just cooperating enemies. You're near the top of most annoying, Deviant."

"Ah-Ah-Ah, you know that's not my name," It corrected him with a wave of a crooked blade for a finger. "I prefer Lucifer. That's the name humans use for the Prince of Lies, after all, and I'm very good at telling fanficul stories of fiction. So that's more appropriate, don't you think?"

"You're a fake. A trickster, no better than the rest of us but pretending you are," Malice gurgled with a twisted smile, despite lacking the skin and lips to do so. "You're a good liar, _Deviant_ , perhaps good enough to convince yourself. But not me."

Lucifer drew a long winded sigh. He had known Malice for as long as he had become codenamed. While his codename was simply 'Deceiver', Malice had called him Deviant for awhile and it rubbed him the wrong name. Personally he rather go by a name of his own choosing, hence his choice of the messianic devil himself.

So hearing that just made him perturbed, but the position of passive torture was enough for him to let it slide as per usual.

"You know, this is the first offense you've ever committed in your career as a Hanta. Consider this punishment by Lord Junta a mercy. Had you been a repeated offender, you might've been reduced to ash or worse," He warned, much to Malice's visible iration. Smiling behind his mask, Lucifer waved his arms out dramatically, twirling on his razor edged toes in a spiraling fashion. "After all, we sinners have a purpose beyond punishment by this realm and the Kushanada who guard it! The Judge would've staked you and left you to rot ages had he not extended his benevolent hand!"

Benevolence was the last thing that came to Malice's mind when it came to serving a Demon.

The sinners -Togabito, as the outsiders call them- were often an amalgmation of Hollows and Humans who had committed acts of appaling nature or measure that deemed them unfit to enter the cycle of reincarnation. Sentenced to Hell through natural death or by cut via Zanpakuto, the Judge would squewer your decomposing body and drag you to Hell.

If a Demon appeared before you on the other side, you had one of two options:Be tormented over and over by the Kushanada -skull headed giants who pulverize the chained and mangled inmates of Hell- or sign a contract for the promise of power, prestige and the promise of a limited amount of freedom.

The contract itself sealed their chains to their domain and are controlled remotely by any Demon who had been the bearer of the contract. If they were to release the contract for any reason, the Judge would receive primary control once more and punish them ever so eternally. The eternal part, however, only last as long as you had the will to continue as many have decomposed to dust far below the surface of Hell's precipice and is a reminder of the ultimate fate of anyone imprisoned here.

"I see you're not in a mood to continue chatting. What a shame," Lucifer yawned, prancing away with audible clacks of his metal lined toes touching the ashen floors of the many pits of molten rocks spotted about. "I'll see you when your punishment is over!~"

"Tch, you'll regret it," Malice snarled, twitching about in the confines of his prison. Disgruntled, he didn't like feeling this way. Worse, he had no problem serving Ryoken till he got treated this way after fighting his enemy with everything he had. If this was how he acted towards one of his most lauded underlings, just how valuable was he?

"Are you the one they call, Malice?"

The Hanta twitched. Looking around, invoking pain as he did, he saw nobody was around. Furrowing the muscles where his brows normally were, the bleeding and burnt husk of a man sneered, "If I am, what of it? Can't you see I'm busy at the moment?"

"Tied up on the noose Ryoken Junta gave you, no doubt," The voice dryly surmised.

"So you can see me, meaning you aren't using telepathy," He deduced, looking hard around the darkness casting shadows by the light of the lava pool he was suspended over. "You must be good at hiding for me not to sense you. Why not show yourself? I promise, I won't bite; not for lack of trying, that is."

Without hesitation, a hissing sound came from the shadow behind his head. Craning his neck to look, he saw a cloaked figure stretched out of the darkness as if moving through malleable tar. Tearing the shadow over its head, it'd stand perpendicularly to the suspended man, looking straight into his eyes with haunting blue eyes coming from a mostly concealed hooded cowl. The rest of the form was concealed thanks to a physics defying cloak that fluttered around the frame. Only the Hanta's high perception and experience at scoping out his prey allowed him to tell what kind of person it was despite the elaborate disguise; from the tone of voice and shape of the eyes, he could tell it was female but nothing else.

"Hi there," The Hanta flashed all four sets of teeth. "Like what you see?"

"I'm not a cannibal, if that's what you're asking," The shadow replied with a dull tone, obviously disgusted by his appearance and current status of mutilation.

"Hasn't stopped the rest of them from trying," Malice replied with a rasping cough, still feeling blood and bile choke on his throat from occasion. "So, I don't recognize you at all. What Demon have you sworn fealty to?"

"I'm not interested in your petty power politics," The shadow sighed, blinking slowly, speaking seriously afterwards. "My master promises something far greater than 'Who gets the prettier spot of Hell?'."

"Oh? Consider my curiosity piqued," He chuckled.

"I can't say more, risk of discovery and all that," She baited, her eyes narrowing from beyond the visage of darkness. "Once you are set free, and I'm sure it will be soon, meet me by the 3rd Level's abandoned castle. I'm sure you know the one."

"Wait, that old dump? Why-?"

"I won't say anymore than that," She answered, her form already sinking back into the pit's shadow.

"Got a name, stranger?"

"I don't," She hissed, her eyes closing as she disappeared from view.

"Huh. Weird girl," Malice huffed, spitting out a wad of ichor into the bubbling lava beneath his body. "I guess I'll just make one up, next time I see her."

With plans of seeing what this newcomer had in store for him, the Hanta had no idea what forces were stirring within the bowels of the underworld. Nor the terrors that will be unleashed upon the actions he will take. All that he knew was that change was in the air.

And he hoped that change brought wholesale slaughter to all of the people who got him thrown back to Hell.

"I'm coming for you, just you wait," Malice cackled, his teeth grinding together with horrible scraping sounds before bellowing with a loud thundrous shockwave that shrieked across kilometers of Hellscape. "ICHIGO KUROSAKI!"

* * *

 **A/N** : Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that is it. First chapter of a sequel series five years (not) in the making. I had originally gave up on continuing the Dark Trilogy (yes, there was a trilogy planned) of the saga of Hell's involvement in the world of Bleach. The first thing that happened that led to a hiatus was my sudden thrust into College. Then after that I had family drama, and then after that I found new hobbies, followed up with more writing projects and the rest is history.

It's funny, coming back to a storyline I wrote so amateurishly that at times I laughed and cringed to the point I can see why I needed to set this down. I remember when I wrote the last chapter after a year's absence that I was actually writing in a format akin to how I roleplayed (something I was big into at the time) and was regressing in quality because of that. I'm proud of the characterization, feel and overall personality of the characters in Dark Prophecies, but it is overall a flawed fic born out of my first try at writing a dedicated Fanfiction.

I did my best to keep continuity of the previous story as well as keep characters relatively in spirit to the source material. There are some things I mentioned in a way I didn't care for in Dark Prophecies that I might end up polishing, retconning or removing entirely if it gets in the way of how I want to write THIS story. This may be a sequel, but I'm going to write it the RIGHT way, dammit.

The benefit of this sequel coming out years after Bleach's end is that I can use information Kubo revealed about other realms, peoples and abilities to cherry-pick what I like or change it for the better of my narrative. That's the point of Fanfiction, isn't it? To write it the way you want while still being an avid fan of what made it fun in the first place (In my opinion.)

However, I will probably end up writing this thing infrequently, so I don't blame anybody for being impatient or not sticking around for this particular entry in the Dark Trilogy. Dark Horizon is going to be a nice world building, grim chapter that will begin to overturn the status quo. Big changes are on the horizon, I guarantee you!

 **EDIT: I fixed some glaring errors in this chapter alone; and in addition to that, I also finally finished the Redux after a year's wait for a continuation of *this* story. So worry not, a continuation proper will commence sooner than you think! That is all! XU **


End file.
